


To the end of the light

by Petra



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Age Play, F/M, Mommykink, Painplay, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie gives Sam a bit of a shake, like his mum used to when he got into a snit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the end of the light

**Author's Note:**

> Mommykink (wild card square) for Kink Bingo. [](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**thatyourefuse**](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/) encouraged me a great deal. For anyone who knows the canon and is astonished at the existence of mommykink based on it, I have two words: Auntie Heather.

  
It's not the sort of thing Sam can ask for straight out, or even sideways, not least because he doesn't know he wants it until he's tucked up in bed after a miserable, horrible day. Annie kisses his forehead and says, "You did everything you could. It's all right."

That right there should be enough to make him think it through--or so he thinks later, when he knows himself a little better--but for the moment, he stops himself from humming a song she doesn't know, thinking of the face Maya made when he asserted that everyone needed a bosom for a pillow, and takes advantage of the fact that Annie doesn't mind such things.

She's soft, she smells lovely, and she strokes his hair. He's been letting it grow out a bit to where he hardly recognizes himself some mornings, between the shag and the sideburns. "I tried," he says into Annie's breast.

"I know." She sighs and puts her arms round him. "You always try so hard."

It's what he needs to hear, and that doesn't mean it's easy for him to believe her. "I don't know if that's enough."

Annie tugs his hair and says firmly, "What else can you do but your best?"

He sighs and hides his face entirely between her body and the blankets. "It wasn't enough."

"I know you spent too many hours working that case, enough that your eyes must be falling out, because mine are." Annie gives him a bit of a shake, like his mum used to when he got into a snit. "Are you going to lie there and tell me how terrible you are, or are you going to listen to me when I say you're so very good at it all, that you did what you could, and that you need to let go?"

Sam huffs out a breath into her cleavage--it should be a clue, it should, if he was only thinking--"I don't know."

She cuffs his ear, not gently. "Pull yourself together."

He sits up enough to look at her, to make sure that he's not dreaming, that Annie, of all people, just smacked him. Really, he'd expect it more from anyone else he knows. Random passerby, little old ladies, and distraught victims are more likely to raise a hand to him than she is. "What was that?" he asks.

Annie rolls her eyes at him in the half-dark. There's just enough light that he can see her expression. "You're sulking. Don't."

Sam shakes his head and rolls away from her a bit. "So you hit me?"

"Sorry," she says, sounding as though she's not even vaguely contrite. "It brings you right round when Gene does it."

He thinks of Annie shoving him up against a wall, punching him in the stomach, throwing him onto their bed with all her weight, and shudders so hard he's sure the bed shakes. "That's different."

"I know," she says, and puts her arm round his neck, tugging his head back to her breasts. "I'm sorry."

Sam sighs again. "You didn't hurt me, just startled me. I--" he swallows and realizes that her nipples are hard, right under his cheek and beside his lips. "I don't need you to knock me about."

Annie laughs and her chest moves with it, jiggling him. It feels familiar; it feels like everything he needs, right then. "That's lucky. I'm not very good at it."

"Just--just tell me again I did the right thing. Please."

She hugs him so tightly to her that he can't breathe for a few long moments. "You're wonderful," she says. "You always are. You did all the right things, and I love you for it."

Sam sighs and does his best to believe her soft, earnest words. They're not quite right yet. "Thank you," he says, when he's said them to himself, when he thinks he might someday own them. He nuzzles her nipple and she squirms. "Should we just sleep?"

"God, not if you're going to do that."

It's far more fun to play with her nipples than it would be to try to sleep, though after a few lazy, sweet sucks, she says, "Just one thing," in a strained voice, and he lets her go.

"What is it?"

"You were far too upset for this five minutes ago. What changed? I know I was smothering you a bit with my breasts, and I did smack you. Did that help?"

This is what he gets for loving a woman who's interested in psychology. She doesn't always try to break things down like this, but sometimes the urge sets in. "Both parts did, I think," he says. "But I'm not sure which was more interesting."

"Hm." Annie tangles her fingers in his hair again and tugs, harder than before. He shivers, trying to work out how to put years of self-knowledge into words for her in ways that won't make her worry about him. "Is this good, then?"

"Not--not quite." Sam swallows hard as she lets go. "It's not the feeling, exactly, it's the--the context."

Annie runs her fingers through his hair, back to gentle touches. "What context do you want?"

Sam leans against her hand, letting her pet him. "No one hits grown men upside the ear for being foolish. Or--" he grins at her in the dark, embarrassed "--or cradles them to their, their bosom and tells them they're--" he doesn't mean to hesitate over the words, but he can barely say, in the dark, the things he's said to himself in other women's voices in the privacy of his head "--a good boy. A sweet boy."

"There's no harm in that, is there?" Annie cups his cheek. "Unless it makes you feel a fool."

She can't possibly feel him blush, and it's too dark for her to see it. "I don't think it would." And that is the understatement of the month, at the very least, but she doesn't know to call him on it, and he won't explain. Not yet.

"Right," Annie says. "Come here, then."

He's back to half-smothering in the best way as soon as she says it. "I just--" he wants to say he doesn't need it, doesn't mean it, anything so that he can take it all back if she thinks he's gone mad again.

"Shh," she says. "You are a very good boy," and that's as gentle as he's ever heard her, echoing through her sternum under his ear. "You do so much. Such a sweet boy, always giving of yourself. If this helps--"

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself he's not damn well crying. Or painfully hard. "It does," he says, and maybe she can't hear the tears in his voice, or she thinks they're for the people they couldn't help in time. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Annie puts her arm round him and rocks him, just a little, but enough that he shifts his hips away to keep himself from wrapping his legs round her thigh. "What am I doing wrong?" she asks, in the same soft, calm voice.

"Nothing." Sam makes himself take a deep breath and wills himself calm, wills his erection down. It isn't listening. "You're doing everything right."

"Stop that." She can use her voice like a whip when she wants to, sharp as anything, and this time she boxes his ears properly.

He hasn't felt that in years, and would've sworn he'd never want to feel it again, except that it makes him cringe and wince and ache right down to the tip of his cock. "Jesus, Annie--please don't apologize."

She sniffs. "Don't lie to me, Sam Tyler."

"You aren't doing anything wrong." His ears are ringing a bit, and if she tries cradling his head any more it's going to make the stinging worse, but still, it's right. "It's just--I didn't want to--"

He hesitates and Annie waits a fraction as long as she normally would. "Didn't want to what?"

Sam knows he's blushing. His cheeks are nearly as warm as his ears. "Didn't want you to know how much I'm enjoying this."

She sits up enough to reach him, to run her familiar hand down his body and stroke his cock with a practiced touch, before she lets him go again. "Don't hide from me," she says, and tugs his head down again until he's curled up, half on top of her, and she can reach him. "It's all right," she says, back to sweetness, back to comfort, and he nearly believes her.

"I shouldn't--" he says, though he doesn't have an end to the sentence that makes sense.

"Shouldn't lie here and let me toss you off?" Annie kisses his forehead again and strokes him, teasing him with her palm. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

Sam groans. That's not the end of the sentence. "I don't know. Yes."

Annie squeezes him, just the right amount of pressure, a hair too much. "I want to give you what you need," she says, and he can't argue with that. The only question is whether he needs this, but if he didn't, he couldn't ask for it.

"I didn't do enough," he says, and she flicks his ear with her free hand, making it burn again.

"You did. You are a good boy, and you did everything you could. You always, always do." She runs her fingers over his tingling ear in the same time she's using on his cock and he moans against her breasts, glad that no one will hear him but Annie, that she's loved him since before she thought he was sane, that she'll love him after this just as well.

"I'm sorry," Sam says, and he is, as sorry as he can be with his hips pumping into her hand and all her faith in him warm and strong around him, strong as anything in the world.

"Enough of that," and this smack makes his ear buzz, makes his cock twitch. "You did enough. You did. My sweet boy." Annie gives him one last squeeze with that, harder, perfect, and he's coming, shaking, barely hearing her say it again, again, but knowing she's saying it just the same.

"Oh, God," Sam says, when he's come down a bit. When he realizes what he's talked her into, that his ears must be bright red and will be uncomfortable to sleep on. When he realizes that he's asked her to be his mum, or a good impression of her. "Are you all right?" he asks.

Annie flicks his ear again. "Of course I am, or I will be once I can feel my breasts again. And if you'd give them a good feel, that'd help too."

He gets off her, telling himself not to apologize, and helps her clean up. "Was that all right?" he asks, when he thinks he's been quiet about it tellingly long.

Annie takes him by the ear, almost gentle enough that it doesn't make him squirm, laughing. "You had a lovely time, didn't you?"

Sam thinks about denying it, but she wouldn't believe him for a moment. "Yes."

"Then what are you worried about?" Annie pulls him in for a kiss, long and teasing. "It's not as though you'll just roll over and leave me lonely."

"Of course not," he says, and he still can't tell her just why he can't believe it's all right.

He shows her how lovely it was instead, teasing her breasts until she pushes his head down by his aching ears and holds him between her thighs, licking her to orgasm twice--which she doesn't usually want--before she lets him go.

"Thank you," Sam says, when she's had enough and is lying in his arms again, sated and relaxed.

"Thank you, too," Annie says, and leans against him. "You'll let me know if you want that again, won't you?"

He doesn't know what words he'll use, but he knows he will. "I promise."


End file.
